


5 Questions for Crowley, and one for Aziraphale

by genericfanatic



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Agender Aziraphale, Genderfluid Crowley, I've tagged this m/m but they're both nonbinary, M/M, Some Violence in later chapters, and non human, brief mention of attempted mpreg, but i don't think it will be, parenting fic, will update tags if it's too gruesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-08
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-06-24 23:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19733884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genericfanatic/pseuds/genericfanatic
Summary: AKA Crowley and Aziraphale make a baby but not like that.





	1. How?

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley wants to have a kid, but Aziraphale tells him there are a lot of questions to consider. Questions like "How?"

“Please Aziraphale?”

“I told you,” Aziraphale said, pretending to ignore him by flipping through his book, “I’ll think about it.”

Crowley was not fooled. “But Aaaannngeeell,” he whined, flopping every which way to emphasize his point, “You’re just saying that to make me go away.”

“Not everyone puts double meanings on everything,” Aziraphale said, sipping his tea. 

“You do,” Crowley said, pouting as he sat in his chair backwards. “Come on, you’re the one who’s supposed to like all this stuff.”

Aziraphale sighed, putting aside the tea and the book, seeing as Crowley wasn’t going to be deterred. “What you’re asking….it’s big.” he bit his lip, thinking of how to word this, “There are so many factors in this just for humans, let alone an angel and a demon. It’s a huge responsibility!”

“Can’t be too big for us,” Crowley said, “Come on, we staved off the apocalypse! We can handle this.”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue, “This is different. There’s a lot of things to consider.”

“Alright,” Crowley said, clapping his hands together and turned the chair around, leaning back in it, “Let’s consider it then. What do you need to consider?”

“Well, first of all,” Aziraphale said, “How?”

“What?”

“How do you intend to create this child?” He said, “Do you want to just go to an orphanage and ask for a human child?”

“Nah, humans are like goldfish,” Crowley said, “You blink and whoops, they’re dead.”

“You realize a child isn’t a pet,” Aziraphale chided him.

Aziraphale couldn’t see directly since Crowley was wearing his sunglasses, but he knew anyway that Crowley had just dramatically rolled his eyes as he groaned, “I KNOW that,” Crowley said, “But this is more than that. We don’t have any rules anymore! We can do what we want! And I want a kid of my own.”

Aziraphale stared at Crowley. He wasn’t exactly ever hiding his emotions, but he had been getting better at expressing his less-than-evil side since the not-armaggedon. After literal eons, Aziraphale could see the desire on his face. He wondered how long he’d thought about having children, but not ever expressing it or daring to think the words as he tried to be the best demon he could. 

The argument was already lost. Aziraphale liked kids. There were still all the ridiculously complicated factors he couldn’t begin to list, but Crowley was looking at him like that, and he knew it was no longer a matter of weighing the pros and cons, but pushing through the obstacles to achieve their goal. “So. Are you going to carry it?”

“What?” Crowley said scrunching up his face in surprise. 

“The baby,” he said, “Do you plan on carrying it yourself?”

“No!” Crowley said, “Why would I--This body isn’t outfitted for that.”

“Well neither is mine,” Aziraphale said, in his voice of explaining things very slow, “But a miracle here or there….” He snapped his fingers emphasizing his point. “Do you have a problem having a vagina, Crowley?”

“I’ve had one before, Aziraphale,” He said, “That’s not the problem! The problem is a demon growing inside this body and...and...crawling its way out of me.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” Aziraphale said, “And besides, it would be half angel, presumably.”

“Half demon is enough, trust me,” he said, “The point is, pregnancy is...is painful. And dangerous!”

“Well, who’s fault is that, hmm?”

Crowley opened his mouth, but grumped as he remembered the whole Apple incident. “Give one woman a fruit, and they carry on about it for 6,000 years…”

Aziraphale chuckled as lightly as he could, but didn’t manage to avoid Crowley’s glare. “It is dangerous, though, you’re right.” He sipped, “And seeing this is no doubt going to be….an abnormal child, the risks are higher. And we can’t very well go getting disencorporated anymore. Maybe we can consider other options.”

Crowley, who no doubt had been trying to think of arguments why AZIRAPHALE should carry the child quickly faded, as he realized any reason he had for Aziraphale to do it would apply to him as well. And clearly Aziraphale wasn’t keen on the idea any more than Crowley was so….that was out. “I miss the old days,” He said, “One day you don’t exist and then,” He snapped his fingers, “Boom. Existence.”

“Yes well,” Aziraphale said, “There’s more than one way to pet a cat.”

“Skin a cat is the phrase,” Crowley corrected, “I know the guy who invented all the ways to skin a cat. There’s 8. Well, 8 and a half, but I don’t think one of them really counts.”

Aziraphale pouted, not liking the expression, or the visuals Crowley was providing, “What about a surrogate?” Aziraphale said, “We could entrust someone we knew well, perhaps Ms. Anathema, or maybe Miss Tracy!”

Crowley made a gagging noise. “One, I’m not trusting anyone with MY child, one slip and suddenly ‘oops, sorry ‘bout that.’ Two, A demon and/or angel baby is going to tear up the insides of any normal human. There’s a reason the antichrist was hand delivered, not entrusted to a mortal to carry.”

Aziraphale frowned, “If you’re going to tear down all my ideas, then I don’t know why I even bother.” Crowley frowned right back at him. “There are other animals out there. God’s creatures have all sorts of ways of creating new life. What about an egg?”

“A--an egg?” Crowley said, confused. 

“Sure!” Aziraphale said, “Like a snake! Or maybe some kind of bird!”

“I don’t want a snake or bird baby,” Crowley said, “I want a….” he trailed off, floundering between ‘human’ ‘angel’ and ‘demon.’

“A what?” 

“A child,” Crowley said, frowning. He screwed up his face like he was annoyed with the world, but Aziraphale knew he was really just frustrated with himself. 

Aziraphale pulled his chair up alongside Crowley. He could feel the disappointment coming off him in waves as this escapade turned out more complicated than he had been envisioning. “I’ll do some research,” He said, kindly “This has never been done before, but perhaps I can find some helpful texts that will give us some ideas.” 

Crowley grumped and leaned his head over onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Thanks, Angel,” He said, still frustrated this endeavor was something more complicated than snapping his fingers. Aziraphale chuckled, putting a hand to his hair to stroke through the strands a bit and soothe his feelings.

They tried everything. Well, a lot of things. In the vast expanse of the universe it’s hard to say what ‘everything ‘encompasses, but they tried so many things over the course of months. 

There was the uh, traditional route, once they broke down and decided to take the risk to their corporeal forms (Crowley first because of the apple thing.) It didn’t take, either time, and all the shapeshifting in the world didn’t help.

They got more creative after that. They tried making an egg, then fertilizing it. The eggs instantly went innate. 

They tried planting seeds, in an attempt at getting a baby to bloom. No such luck. 

Aziraphale knew that Crowley was getting frustrated. He was too. He still wasn’t sure about all of this, but he knew he would try his hardest. He WAS trying his hardest. 

The thing was, angels and demons hadn't combined in 6000 years. They were opposites. Aziraphale was trying very hard not to bring up the possibility that the two of them were...well...incompatible. 

He tried bringing up adoption again, and Crowley considered it this time. Maybe they could adopt in cycles, every few decades or so, pick up a new batch. Crowley thought about it for a while, but the prospect of not just once, but continually outliving a human you were raising was….unfortunate. It was why they had not grown attached to young Warlock, despite helping to raise him. It was all so...temporary. 

Aziraphale did not bring up the idea that they might not have another choice. 

He was preparing for another bout of research into the strangest reproductive techniques the Earth had to offer, when he got a call. “A.Z. Fell Bookshop, how may I help you?” He asked. 

“Um, hi, Aziraphale,” Newt Device (because of course he had changed his own name at their wedding a year ago) “So...I wasn’t sure if I should call you. I don’t...I mean I don’t really understand what’s happening, but I didn’t want to bring this up to Anathema, not yet, so uh…”

“What is it, my child?” Aziraphale asked, patient, but not too patient.

“Right,” He said, “So, um, Ana didn’t want to tell you, but well, after the whole...event a couple years ago, remember? Of course you do, what am I saying. Anyway, Agnes left us something. It was...it was more prophecies.” Aziraphale’s eyes went wide. An expansion? To Agnes Nutter’s Nice and Accurate Prophecies? He could barely dream of such a thing! Of course Anathema wouldn’t want to part with the original, but he wondered if he’d be allowed to copy them down in a new print, Crowley had been telling him about ‘copy machines’ and how useful they were and--- “We burned them.”

Aziraphale physically flinched as his entire being came to a halt at Newt’s words. “You did what.” He said so monotonously, even he could hardly believe it. He was about ready to sprout wings and head over to them himself.

“Please don’t make a big deal about this, it was a hard decision, and this is why we didn’t tell you, but really it’s what’s best for Ana, ok? So just….just listen, because I think one slipped out of our hands and fell to the floor before we burned them all.” Aziraphale heard him swallowing, a laborious task by the sound, possibly because his mouth was so dry. “And I think it’s about...well, you.”

Aziraphale stifled his anger, at least for the moment. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s like, it’s a recipe,” he said, “But it’s for ‘the bastard angel, and the nice demon?’” Newt gulped, “I’m...I’m not calling you a bastard, sir, it’s just, well, I don’t know any other angels, and from what I understand none of the others interact with demons so--”

“What’s the prophecy, Newt?”

He heard Newt gulp again, “Right, so, it says, “Plumage pure, of lily and coal, stewed in the waters of above, cooked in the flame below . In the bubbles your answers lie.”

“Answers?” Aziraphale said, “Answers to what?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Newt said. He’d taken to calling both Crowley and Aziraphale ‘sir.’ “It just says ‘in--in the bubbles.’”

Aziraphale frowned. Agnes was never wrong, but what could that be the answer to--

He cut off his own train of thought as he looked down at the many books he had open, trying to find an answer to his and Crowley’s problem. “Mr. Newt, I have to be going. We’ll discuss this ‘burning’ issue later.”

He hung up the phone before he could hear Newt’s whining and ran off in search of Crowley.

“Are you sure this will work?” Crowley asked, looking suspiciously at the basin Aziraphale set on the stovetop.

“No, not at all,” Aziraphale said, cautious as he poured the holy water he’d accrued into the basin, ensuring not a drop spilled out. It wouldn’t do to have a droplet loose in their (formerly just Crowley’s) apartment, for him to trip over and burn himself on. “But, we’ve trusted Agnes so far, and she hasn’t lead us wrong. I don’t even know what this will make,” He smiled at Crowley, “But….what could it hurt, right?”

“What could it hurt have Holy Water and Hellfire in a room together? Goodness, I don’t know.” Crowley said, rolling his eyes.

Aziraphale glared at him, and gestured with his head for Crowley to come closer. Crowley eyed the water suspiciously, but did as was asked. “Wings out,” he instructed. Crowley sighed, and spread his wings for Aziraphale to find a feather that would fit in the basin, not too small nor too big, and wouldn’t hurt Crowley to pluck. He turned for Crowley to do the same for him. 

Crowley gulped, white feather in his hand, while Aziraphale held the black. “So, you wanna go first, or me, or…”

“I think,” Aziraphale said, “I think we ought to do it together, don’t you?” Crowley took a deep breath and nodded. 

In sync, their hands moved over the basin and dropped the feathers in. Crowley’s feather sizzled, touching the waters surface. “Quickly!” Aziraphale urged Crowley, “before it’s all gone!”

Crowley opened his mouth and shot a blaze of hellfire that sat under the basin, lighting it from the stove. The water didn’t wait a moment, instantly it began boiling, steam rising into the air. Crowley backed away on instinct, but Aziraphale lingered, trying to get a look at what was happening inside.

The second the first bit of steam touched his hand, he yelped at the burning sensation. Crowley dared a step forward, grabbing Aziraphale and pulling him out of the room into the next and shutting the door behind him. 

Aziraphale stared at his hand, “I don’t understand…” he said, “It was just holy water…”

“Boiled in hellfire,” Crowley said, grabbing blankets to cover the frame of the door, blocking any steam from getting in, “Thats poisonous to both of us!”

“How strange,” Aziraphale said, “No one’s ever discovered that before.”

“Because no demon’s ever been dumb enough to boil holy water!” He said, finishing his makeshift doorjam, and instantly coming to Aziraphale’s side, taking his burnt hand into his own. “Is it bad?”

“Stings,” Aziraphale said, “But not too bad, no?”

Crowley pulled him to an aloe he had planting. “You knew you had this coming,” he told the plant, and chopped off one of the stems. Cool gel seeped out, and he rubbed the plant directly onto Aziraphale’s burn, soothing it. There was a mark left behind, but it didn’t hurt as much. 

Aziraphale smiled, “Thank you, Crowley.” He looked back at the door, “I wish I could have seen the process. I don’t know what’s happening in there.”

“I suspect whatever it is,” Crowley said, “We’ll find out soon.”

They waited. And waited. And waited a little longer. 

Patience was not something Crowley was known for, but the threat of airborne holy water was enough to keep him still--for a little while. “Alright,” he said, “It’s got to have dissipated by now, right?”

“Maybe we should give it a little longer,” Aziraphale said, “Just in case.”

Crowley shook his head, carefully removing one of the blankets from the door. Nothing seeped in...a good sign.

He creaked the door open slowly to the rest of the apartment. Water clung to the windows as an evaporated mist, and it was ridiculously hot and muggy….but it didn’t hurt.

Crowley stepped out first, pushing Aziraphale back in case something dangerous had occurred as he approached the basin. The basin was filled with something, red, but not like blood. More like--

“Clay?” Aziraphale said confused, looking over Crowley’s shoulder. “Of some sort?”

“Looks like it,” Crowley said, hesitantly reaching a finger into the basin to touch it. It was very light, very fresh. “Though it’s weird, I don’t think I’ve seen any like it since--”

He cut himself off, eyes going round as what it looked like occurred to him. He snapped his gaze to Aziraphale, waiting for the realization to hit him. 

Aziraphale examined the sample on Crowley’s fingers. It did look familiar. Like…. “This...this can’t be--” he said, looking up at Crowley, “Adamah?”

“The dust of Eden,” Crowley said, smiling, “that Adam was made out of. First Adam, I mean”

Aziraphale blinked, and blinked again, trying to make sense of things. “What--What do we DO with it?” 

Crowley dug his fingers into the clay, pulling out a large clump. “I guess we make a baby.”

Aziraphale rolled his sleeves up all the way, attempting to keep his clothes clean as he joined Crowley. He grabbed his own clump and the two of them began shaping it together.

The clay was incredibly moldable, seeming to form more by thought rather than skill. They gathered together a general body-shape, and then broke off, Crowley working on attaching the legs, while Aziraphale added the arms and head. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Crowley said, “You want our kid to be a damn bobblehead?”

“Kids have naturally larger heads,” Aziraphale chided, using a stick to shape the eyes, “they’ll grow into it.” Crowley rolled his eyes and went back to work, doing some detailing. “What about you? What...What are you doing there?!” 

Aziraphale looked at him scandalized at where Crowley was poking. “What?” Crowley asked, “Kids have genitalia, ya know. We don’t want her to be a damn doll.” Aziraphale winced, “If she doesn’t like any of it later we can just,” He snapped his fingers, “Miracle. Easy.”

Aziraphale’s face settled from his shock into more of a twitch of surprise. “‘She’?” He asked. 

Crowley gulped, ducking his head down as he concentrated hard on what he was doing. Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes behind the sunglasses, but he didn’t really need to. “Well, if she doesn’t like that later, we can change that too.”

Aziraphale smiles at him. He supposed Crowley was right. He didn’t really much think of gender, being considered male had just been kind of easier over the millenia, though it was getting better. Crowley picked up different genders like hats, picking one, then another, a third before going back to the first. He wondered what his---goodness he hadn’t thought the word out before--what his daughter would think of that, one day. 

As the details were carved in, a fingernail, a lock of hair, some lines on the knees, the clay started moving. Aziraphale and Crowley froze, watching it like they’d done something wrong. 

The clay moved more, first the arm, then a twitch of the leg. The clay cooled to a more regular skin-tone color, and the little mouth opened.

Crowley would deny it until the end of all days, but when he heard his daughter cry for the first time, he cried right along with her. Aziraphale might have made fun of him, but he was bawling too.


	2. What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley invite some of their human friends over for a baby shower, but all the guests have to wonder, what exactly IS it that these two have created?

Newton Pulsifer Device would like it known that he was not in the business of kidnapping. 

He never thought, however, that he would have to be questioning the finer points of kidnapping. Adam was coming on this trip to London with them willingly. And he planned on returning him to his parents, so, it should be fine. 

But also Adam had maybe slightly exaggerated to his parents where he was that day. And he and Anathema were helping him.

Anathema seemed unfazed by this issue, and Anathema was right about everything, so Newt went with her. It wasn’t like they were doing anything dangerous. It was a baby shower. For a baby that just...existed, now, he supposed.

“Recipes are for stew,” Anathema said, “or lasagna. Not a baby.”

“I don’t know what to tell you!” Newt said, “I gave them a recipe. Now we’re here.” 

“Did you guys get a gift?” Adam asked from the backseat, “that’s what you do for babies, right?”

Anathema nodded, pulling out a rattle. Adam didn’t look impressed. “What? It wasn’t like we had long to go shopping. And who knows what baby...angel...clay...demon...things need.”

Adam shrugged, not having an argument for that. He’d invited the rest of the Them, but they hadn’t been able to get an excuse for the WHOLE day. Dog sat on Adam’s lap, though, so he wasn’t totally alone. He and Dog didn’t have any spending money, so he had made a doll by wrapping string around some twigs. It had a leaf for hair. 

They found parking in London and walked to the bookshop. When invited, Newt had made the mistake of asking why they didn’t meet at the flat, only to be berated by Crowley about how there was no way he was letting them anywhere near where he lived. 

The bookshop was closed, but Shadwell was at the door. “You’re late, Private Pulsifer,” he said, opening the door for the pair of them, and young Adam. 

“Oh, um...Sargeant,” Newt said, shrinking into himself, “I didn’t realize you were going to be here.” He gulped, “Um, Ana, you’ve heard me talking about Mr….I mean, Sgt. Shadwell, right?”

Anathema smiled a little too brilliantly at him, “Yes, we met very briefly during the apocalypse,” She said, holding out her hand to shake, “Anathema Device, Newt’s wife, and I have 6 nipples. 

The pipe Shadwell was holding fell out of his hands and tumbled to the floor. Newt looked between the pair of them like he was watching a tennis match not knowing what to say. Of course this is how Anathema would react, so no use on that end, but he wondered if he should check whether or not Shadwell was going to LITERALLY explode. 

Adam, bored with adult weirdness, pushed past the awkwardness and made it to where Aziraphale was setting out tea and talking amicably with Ms. Tracy. “Oh, hello, Adam!” Aziraphale smiled, indicating a spot for him to sit. Dog curled around at his feet. “Would you like some tea?”

“Nah,” Adam said, “Would like some of the biscuits, though,” he eyed them, and Ms. Tracy offered the whole tray, which he took a sample of everything from. 

Newt had awkwardly followed them further inside, abandoning his wife to duke it out with his former...colleague? Boss? He wasn’t sure which word applied. Either way he was certain she could handle herself.

At the end of the couch by where Aziraphale sat was a cot with a blanket inside. He smiled, approaching, “And is this the little one?” He cooed, looking in it.

….and then immediately screeched and backed away as a snake head popped out and hissed at him. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale chided, “I asked you to please appear human while we have guests.”

The snake let out another short hiss, which Newt interpreted as protest, before the giant snake rose up, and then stepped out of the crib appearing as Crowley, holding a heavily swaddled infant in his arms. “You said to put the baby in the cot,” Crowley grumped, “I was just following through.”

“Oh!” Anathema said, joining them after leaving a flustered Shadwell behind. Whatever she said to him, he was staring at her transfixed and a bit horrified. “Look at her, she’s precious!” She leaned over Crowley’s arms to get a look at the baby’s sleeping face. 

Crowley was reluctant to have anyone so close to HIS daughter, but after a moment of hesitation, allowed her to coo over the baby. “What happened with the spell? How did it work?”

Aziraphale did not look up at her from his tea. In fact, he was decidedly looking away from her. “He’s still a bit sour about the burning thing.” Crowley said, “Book burning’s a bit of a sensitive topic. You should have seen him after Alexandria.”

“I told you never to bring that up again!” Aziraphale snapped, and looked honestly pained, “I swear, if I ever find out that was you, I’ll--”

“I’ve told you a hundred times, Angel!” Crowley said, rolling his eyes, “I was up in Gaul at the time. Now be polite and greet our guests.” 

Aziraphale sighed, and finally met Anathema’s eyes, “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Device.”

“You as well,” She said, nodding her head, then looking back at the baby, “She has your eyes,” She said.

That got Aziraphale to smile again, “And Crowley’s hair,” He said fondly. “Come give her to me, Crowley. I swear, he hasn’t put the baby down since she was made.” 

Crowley grumped, and handed the baby over to Aziraphale as slowly as he could, trying not to upset her. She scrunched her face up, but did not cry. 

“Oh, isn’t she precious,” Ms. Tracy said, face melting as she looked at the child, “Shadwell and I got her a gift, I--Shadwell?” She only just realized Shadwell hadn’t rejoined them. 

Startled, he came over to the gathering, taking a box out of his satchel and holding it out. Crowley scoffed at it, and Aziraphale sighed. “Adam, would you like to hold her?” He said, and held out the baby. Adam sat with his back straight, arms out as Aziraphale guided the baby into his hands. “Support the neck,” He instructed, but Adam got the hang of it, looking curiously down at the child, not so much awed as examining. 

Aziraphale took the box from Shadwell and opened it up. “Oh goodness,” He said, “Look Crowley, it’s a blanket.”

“She’s already got a blanket,” Crowley said.

“Oh, but feel how soft it is,” Ms. Tracy said, lifting it to Crowley, “I sewed the satin on myself. And it’s actually not quite finished yet. I wanted to do some embroidery work on it, but I wanted to know the girl’s name before I did so.” 

Aziraphale froze, holding the blanket in his hands. He exchanged awkward looks with Crowley, and realization dawned on the group. 

Newt was the only one stupid enough to say anything, “You didn’t name your baby?”

Crowley shot a glare at him that he was very worried might melt his liver or turn his skin to spiders or something. As it was he was just weak in the knees, nearly falling over before Anathema supported him. “It was kind of a sudden thing,” Crowley said through his teeth. 

“Well, she will need a name,” Anathema said, “And some kind of Birth Certificate for things like school and what not. How about Agnes? She did sort of help in the creation.”

Crowley scrunched up his nose in distaste, “Look, she’s bloody helpful, but no prophecy in the world is getting me to name a kid AGNES.”

“What about ‘Eve?’ Miss Tracy suggested. “It’s pretty, and rather thematically appropriate.” This time it was Adam to look disgusted, and Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t look too pleased either. 

“A little too on the nose, I think, my dear,” Aziraphale said with a smile. 

Shadwell was getting a bit more comfortable, leaning back in the couch and taking out his pipe. Whether it was cleaned or not, no one wanted to know. “I always thought if I had a daughter, I’d name her ‘Joy-in Sorrow,’” He smiled, looking around the group for their reaction, “Joy for short.”

They all blinked at him. “And what, pray tell,” Crowley said, “Would you name a boy?”

Shadwell coughed, getting some extra smoke out of his lungs, “‘If-Christ-Had-Not-Died-For-Thee-Thou-Hadst-Been-Damned,” He said, proudly, “Chris, for short.”

“What about ‘Antonia?’” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, “Named after her father.”

Crowley was trapped between embarrassment and happy, “Well what about ‘Ezra?’” He said, “Named after her other father?”

“We could make one of them a middle name,” Aziraphale suggested. 

“But which ONE?” Crowley demanded, seated on the arm chair. 

Adam shifted the baby in his arms, “I don’t really like names that are named after people,” He said, “Makes it seem like you’re trying to make her be something when she doesn’t even have the chance to make her choices yet.”

The adults in the room exchanged awkward looks, feeling guilty for any and all of their parts they had in taking away the boy’s choice. “What would you name her, then?” Crowley asked.

Adam screwed up his face thinking, “I’d call her….” Subconsciously, everyone in the room leaned in. “Baby.”

The room fell back. “You know, For a kid who summoned aliens and an underwater city,” Crowley said, “You’re not the most creative at naming, are you?” Adam shrugged, and dog growled a little at Crowley. Crowley growled back. 

“How about, Angela?” Newt suggested, gaining the attention of the room. “Or like, Angelica. ‘Cause she’s a. You know. She’s, um.” 

He wilted under Crowley’s look. “She’s not an Angel,” Crowley said, “That’s MY kid, there. Do I look like an angel to you?” He took off his glasses and glared at him with slitted eyes. 

Newt shook his head furiously. Anathema, his external backbone, held his shoulders, “Well that brings up an important question, now doesn’t it?” she asked, “What IS she?”

Crowley turned his glare onto her, but Aziraphale held his arm, “Wait, dear,” He said, “Now...she has something of a point.” He looked down at his daughter in Adam’s arms, “We don’t really know.”

Shadwell took another puff from his pipe, “How--”

“Honestly, Shadwell, if you ask how many nipples this innocent baby has, I will send you out without a ride home,” Miss Tracy chastised him, which was probably better than if either Crowley or Aziraphale had gotten to him. “Adam, sweetie, may I?” She looked up to Aziraphale and Crowley as well. Aziraphale nodded, and Adam handed her over, “Oh, she’s a sweetheart is what she is.” 

“I told you,” Adam said, “Baby.”

“She won’t be a baby forever, though,” Anathema said, “What will she be then?”

“She’ll be a living being!” Crowley exploded, jolting off the couch to pace angrily, “She’ll...she’ll be a person, or...or a soul or something, a creature that we created, just like everything in the universe got created by something, and--”

“Stella,” Aziraphale cut him off, looking up at Crowley, “We should call her Stella.”

Crowley stared back at him, the tiniest frown on his face as he tried to figure the man out. “Oh, which means ‘Star!’” Anathema said, brightening.

Newt smiled back at her, “Because demon or angel, she’s ‘out of this world.’” He chuckled at his own joke, and his wife lightly hit him on the shoulder for it. 

“I think it’s lovely,” Miss Tracy said, “And beautiful, just like her!” She cooed over the baby, tapping her nose with one long fingernail. 

Shadwell grumped, “It’s no ‘Joy-for-Sorrow’” He said, “But I suppose it’ll do.”

Adam thought about it, “Sounds nice. Stars are cool.”

Crowley, meanwhile, only paid attention to Aziraphale. He had only told the angel about his life pre-fall since the not-apocalypse. Had only told him about the stars he had made there one night, looking up at the London sky. Light pollution, that had been his doing, back during the industrial revolution. So he didn’t have to look. So he didn’t have to remember his creations.

Aziraphale had been surprised. Really, it didn’t change anything, but on the other hand it changed everything. The stars were his oldest creation. This child, his daughter, was his newest. “Stella,” Crowley repeated, feeling the word out on his tongue, “Sure, why not?”

At that moment, the baby--Stella--let out a noise and started squirming in her blanket. She hadn’t started crying, but certainly had woken up. “Oh dear me,” Ms. Tracy said, “I think she wants her Daddy,” She giggled standing up, “Strange to say that in this context.”

“What?” Adam asked, confused, but Newt just shook his head at the kid repeatedly and mouthed ‘you don’t want to know.’

Tracy handed Stella over to Crowley who held her, if possible even more reverently than he had before. She made little noises, and then smiled. It was probably just gas, but it made the demon fall apart. 

Anathema held Newt’s hand, as they looked at the demon, rocking his daughter and smiling at her, like they were the only things in the universe. “So,” Ms. Tracy got everyone elses attention. “When are you two going to have your own little one?”

Both Newt and Anathema paled. Newt was used to being flustered, but with the both of them, they were out of the game completely as they stuttered and mumbled excuses. 

Dog barked, and nudged at Adam’s rucksack. Adam frowned at it and turned to Aziraphale as the other adults were all distracted, “I think there’s something in my bag,” he said. 

Aziraphale frowned, curious, as Adam dug through his belongings. He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to the angel. 

Aziraphale scanned it quickly, and smiled. It was a birth certificate, for one Stella Baby Crowley-Fell. “You’re an insistent one, you know that?” He said, eyeing the middle name. “Thank you, Adam, this means a lot.” Adam shrugged, a little embarrassed, but playing it off like it meant nothing. “You’ll be the Godfather, won’t you? Or….the something-father.”

Adam snorted. “I feel more like...Something-brother. I like it.”

Aziraphale smiled. Already his child had a heavenly father, demonic father, and a something-brother. She really would be a star.

Crowley had very reluctantly let the other party guests hold Stella briefly at least once before they had to leave. Ms. Tracy had taken the blanket back to get embroidered. The rattle Anathema and Newt had brought had ended up somewhere below a shelf or something, no one really cared enough to go looking for it. Aziraphale had handed Stella the little stick doll Adam had made for her, but Crowley snatched it away again before Stella inevitably put it in her mouth. 

Finally, everyone departed. Crowley happily wrapped himself around his baby again, with 0 intention of letting go. Aziraphale just chuckled at him, knowing he’d lost this fight, and so just guided Crowley back to the couch in their flat, and wrapped his own arms around him, Stella nursing on a bottle Crowley miracled up. “You will put her down sometime, won’t you?” Aziraphale asked, “In the next 18 years or so?”

“Maybe,” Crowley said, “Haven’t decided yet.” Aziraphale chuckled again, putting a kiss to the back of his head. “I really don’t know what she’s going to be,” He said, “Like, at all. That’s...that’s terrifying.”

“It’s her choice,” Aziraphale said, “Isn’t that what you always try and promote? You were responsible for that, after all.”

“But she can’t make a choice yet,” Crowley said, “Look at her, she’s so small. We have to make choices for her, and just...guess as to what she’s going to want. What if we make the wrong ones?”

Aziraphale took a deep breath. It was a conundrum that was weighing on him as well, but he didn’t have the answers. “Guess we do what we’ve always done,” He said, getting a look from Crowley, “Make it up as we go along.”

Crowley laughed, which disturbed Stella’s nursing. “Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “You know theres a limit to how much milk you should be feeding her.”

“I know,” he said, “Why?”

“The milk level hasn’t depleted in the bottle.”

Crowley looked down, and noticed he was indeed right. Stella was sucking away, but the milk level remained steady. He pulled the bottle out of her mouth and she whined, reaching for it. “Cheeky girl,” He said, putting the bottle down. Performing your own miracles already, hm?” Stella did not listen, just reaching for the bottle. 

“I think it’s time for her nap, dear,” Aziraphale said, “She’s had a long day.” 

Crowley did not like the idea of putting her down, but went to the cot and lay her to rest anyway. “Did you put Adam’s doll in here?” He asked. 

“No,” Aziraphale answered. As she wasn’t put in her crib fast enough she reached for the doll. It disappeared and reappeared in her hand. 

Crowley held his daughter up at eye level, as she clutched onto the doll, “You have your father’s penchant for unnecessary miracles.” 

“Are you referring to you or me?” Aziraphale said, going to pick out a book to read for the night. 

Crowley huffed. “Oh, I forgot to burp her.” A cloth appeared on his shoulder as he held her there and patted her on the back.

A jet of steam burst out of her mouth, making Aziraphale hit the floor in an effort to avoid it. Crowley stopped burping her, frozen. The steam had felt like holy water going just past his ear.

Crowley put Stella down as Aziraphale got up, the steam dissipating. “You alright?” Crowley asked. 

“Just shaken,” He said, looking down at his daughter, “But I do think we will need to figure out at some point, What exactly our daughter is.”

Crowley looked at her, already snuggled up against the stick doll that could NOT have been comfortable, but she was drifting as peaceful as could be. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

With no more prompting, he turned into a snake and curled up around her, keeping her close as she drifted off.


	3. Where?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stella grows older, and attracts some unwanted attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little more plot in this one, guys. Just in case you were expecting pure fluff.

“Stella?” Aziraphale called through the bookshop, “Stella dear, where are you?” 

He heard an ominous giggling echo around the bookshelves. The shop was thankfully closed, and Aziraphale was ready to bring the girl home for the day, but she had wandered off. 

In the three years since Stella’s creation, the Crowley-Fell family had fallen into a steady rhythm. Some days Stella would come to the shop with Aziraphale and hang around the books. Other days, Crowley would take her around town, often going to ‘Mommy and me’ classes or other playdates so that they could allow her to socialize like a normal human child. 

Overall, it would be very easy for Aziraphale and Crowley to raise a normal human child. They didn’t need money or sleep, so it was simple to keep up with her if she was like all the other kids she interacted with. 

The miracles, though, were hard to contain. It’s hard to explain to a child why she can’t have anything she wanted when she wanted it, especially as the child was only just beginning to understand speech as a general concept to begin with. This meant she needed to be supervised by either Aziraphale or Crowley nearly constantly, so they could apply the necessary ‘anti-miracles’ to cancel out whatever Stella had done. 

‘Constant Supervision’ it turned out, was harder to manage than Aziraphale had thought. For a being with over a hundred eyes, he enjoyed using most of them to read his books, and when he had put Stella down for her nap, he saw nothing wrong with delving into a book he had been putting off. 

It wasn’t until he had finished said book and looked up that he realized….Stella was not, in fact, napping. Aziraphale had no idea how long it had been since she HAD been napping. And if he didn’t find her, forget disincorporation, Crowley would burn him where he stood. 

Thankfully, the giggling proved to him that the child was still in here somewhere, and not crawling straight into the Thames, or across a high wire bridge, or on top of the tower of London or any of the horrors Aziraphale’s mind provided. But there was the trick of still FINDING her. 

“Stella Baby Crowley-Fell,” he informed the bookstore at large, “This is not a game. Come out here right now.” 

The giggling continued as she no doubt did not believe him. Spoiled brat. He loved her so much. 

He checked under bookshelves, in between books, underneath tables, in drawers. She hadn’t done much shrinking of her own yet, but theoretically she would be capable of it. He just hoped he didn’t actually squish her. Could she be disincorporated? Aziraphale didn’t want to find out. 

As he was crawling under a table, checking between the carpet strands, he felt something fall onto his back. It wasn’t heavy, but it was surprising, and he jerked, hitting his head on the table. Grumbling, he crawled out and looked. It was a small crumpled piece of paper. He looked up. 

Sitting with no sense of gravity was little Stella on the ceiling, a book in her hand and giggling madly. Her red curls were hanging down, and a brilliant smile stretched across her face. 

Aziraphale sighed in relief, “Goodness, dear,” He said, “You scared me.”

Stella smiled at him, “Lookit, Da!” She said, “I’m reading!”

In a horrifying moment, Aziraphale watched Stella rip a page out of the book she was holding, crumple it up, and let it fall to the floor. “STELLA!” Aziraphale yelled, feeling himself turn into his true form. “PUT! THAT! DOWN!” 

Stella’s lip trembled as she looked into the many eyes and wings Aziraphale had pointed at her, and began to cry. Like velcro coming unstuck, she dropped off the ceiling and fell through the air. 

Aziraphale came back to himself, grabbing the child out of the air, as she balled her hands into fists and rubbed her eyes. Aziraphale took a long sigh, calming down. “I’m sorry for yelling,” She said, “But this is a very old book, dear. There’s very few like it in the world.” He lay it open and put out the page, “Would you help me fix it?”

She sniffled, but eventually released her face and nodded. 

He lay his hand over hers, guiding it over the page. She made it stitch together. It was a little uneven, but he could fix her fix. He took a deep sigh. “It’s very important to respect other people’s things, dear,” He said, “What if someone tore up your doll?”

She clutched the stick closer to her. In three years the figure had never broken, and she had never gotten a splinter, despite how much she loved the thing. 

“Don’t worry,” He assured her, “I’m sure nothing is going to happen to it. But now you know how I feel about the books, right?”

Stella squirmed in his arms. “Sorry Da.”

He smiled, “I forgive you,” and he kissed her forehead. She smiled again, and giggled, reaching up and pulling at his hair. He leaned down, and she kissed his forehead too. 

His smile could light up the whole shop.

The door opened quickly and then closed. “Papa!” Stella cried out, dropping out of Aziraphale’s arms and rushing the door. 

“Hey, pumpkin,” Crowley said, lifting her as she rushed at him, “Good day?”

“I did a lot of reading!” She said, proudly. Aziraphale was grateful she didn’t mention the yelling incident. 

“Nerd,” He said, rubbing her hair that matched his own, “Just like your dad.” She giggled. “Hey, why don’t you go and read some more, I gotta talk to Dad for a bit.”

Aziraphale smiled, watching Crowley put Stella back down as she pattered away to find a new book. Then he frowned a bit. 6000 years allowed him a good sense of what Crowley was feeling at any given time. And he was...worried. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Crowley opened his mouth, whatever he had been preparing to say thrown out the window. “Nothing,” he said, not believable in the least, “Nothing’s wrong. Just going on my stroll, and I was thinking, you know, we should go on a vacation. As a family, you know?”

Aziraphale smirked, “Alpha Centauri?” He suggested.

“Not a bad start,” Crowley said, completely jumping over the joke, “But doesn’t really matter where, you know, just...just getting away for a bit. Let Stella see more of the country or even the world. All stuffed up here in London, she could use some fresh air."

Aziraphale tried to get a better read on him. “Crowley, what’s going on?”

Crowley gulped. “Saw something,” He muttered.

“What?” Aziraphale asked.

“I saw something!” Crowley said just a bit louder. Across the shop, Stella lifted her head. Crowley smiled, reassuring her everything was ok, and she went back to her book. Whether or not she could actually read was still a mystery.

Aziraphale lead him to a table, sitting him down. “What kind of something?” he asked. 

Crowley swallowed. “Probably nothing,” He said, in the way that meant it was definitely something. 

“Crowley,”

“There was construction on the M25,” He said, a little meekly.

Aziraphale frowned, “There’s always construction on the M25.”

“This was on the north end,” he said, “there shouldn’t be any construction there, it’s in fine condition. But….I think, with some careful construction to the North End, it’s possible to change the sigil I made in the 70s, into the ancient sigil of destruction, hailing for the end of, um…”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, “Crowley darling I don’t have all day.”

“Of the savior resplendent, protector of humankind.” He said, and his eyes strayed over to Stella.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open a little, “Stella isn’t the savior.”

“You could make the argument,” Crowley said, “I mean, we made her, and we’ve kinda set ourselves up as protectors, kinda.” He shrugged, “And the plans came via Agnes Nutter, and she must have gotten her visions from somewhere.” He gulped, “On the other hand, it could have been some sort of demonic force or something, I don’t…”

“She’s our daughter,” Aziraphale said, “That’s all she is until she decides otherwise. We talked about this, We don’t--”

“I know,” Crowley said, “But...but the demons don’t.” He swallowed, feeling his nerves, “The angels don’t. If they know we have a kid…” Aziraphale sat back, the news washing over him. “And even if they don’t think she’s...whatever she is. They’ll still know she’s important to us. You know they’ve been looking for a way to hurt us ever since the switch. I don’t….” Crowley gripped his own arm, to hold onto his nerves, “If they do anything to her--”

“We won’t let them.” Aziraphale said firmly. Crowley gripped his arm tighter. Aziraphale lifted his sunglasses, looking at him in the eyes, “Listen to me. We. Won’t. Let them.” He took a breath, “We’ll take a vacation, get out of the city for a while, get them to lose track of us for a bit. And then...we’ll figure something out, alright? We always do.”

Crowley nodded. His eyes went off to the side, “Angel,” He said, “Where’s Stella?”

Aziraphale turned. Stella had disappeared from where she’d been sitting reading instantly. “Oh, not again,” He said, and looked up at the ceiling.

Stella was sitting happily on the ceiling boards. She gave her fathers a little wave. 

They checked out Paris for a time. Stella enjoyed the crepes as much as Aziraphale. Then a flight out to Rome, Athens, a short trek through Jerusalem, which they quickly decided was maybe not the best idea for avoiding angels and demons. 

Mostly, they stuck to the countryside. Stella was having a wonderful time. She had a real gift with animals, it seemed, no matter the type. 

Stella was maybe having too wonderful a time. She still didn’t understand why her fathers insisted on sticking so close to her, but she quickly interpreted it into a little game. How far could she get away from them before they noticed and could come get her. One harrowing safari in the Serengetti led to the panicked Angel and Demon finding her curled up with a Lionness, who had taken to her like one of her own cubs. 

They were gone for months. No signs of any sigils or angels or demons, or anyone who would do any harm to Stella. Crowley checked the news and found the construction on the north of the M25 had been halted. It was time to go home.

They went to the bookshop first, pulling up in the Bentley. Stella was sitting on Aziraphale’s lap, no need to get a carseat for her. Crowley was about to look for parking when he stopped in front of the shop itself. 

The windows were boarded up, as was the door. The outside had clear signs of burn damage. “Da, what’s wrong with the shop?” 

“I’m not sure sweetie,” Aziraphale said, “Should we--”

Crowley held up his hand, putting the car in park right there on the street. Everyone else could go around. “Stay in the car.”

Whoever had been there was long gone. Crowley snapped his fingers, the door opening despite the boards. 

Every book was ash, down to the last tome. Crowley kneeled down, sticking his finger in a pile of some desecrated thing. It probably happened weeks ago, but the ash was still warm, a little tingly as well. Crowley had no doubt it was hellfire. 

He walked back out, leaving the shop behind. “Why didn’t they call?” Aziraphale said, “I’m the owner, I should have--”

“Demons all over public works,” Crowley said without looking. Still, in his periphery, he saw Aziraphale hold Stella a little tighter. 

When they arrived at their flat, they found a sign in front as well, saying it was closed. “THERE you are,” The landlord said, rushing over to the family, “I’ve been trying to reach you for WEEKS!” 

“Let me guess,” Crowley said, “There was a fire in our flat while we were gone.”

“What?” The landlord---Crowley never knew his name--said, “No, no, no fire, just a lot of flooding.” 

Crowley and Aziraphale frowned in sync. “Flooding…?” Aziraphale asked.

The landlord nodded, “Something to do with the piping. Never seen anything like it before. I talked to the contractors, but it’s going to be a while before they open the place up to be liveable.”

Aziraphale passed Stella over to Crowley, who held her tight. Cautiously, he touched the side of the doorframe, feeling where the water had warped it. He turned to Crowley and nodded. Holy water.

There was no point now. Even with construction, Crowley wouldn’t be able to step into the room again. 

“Can we go in now, Papa?” Stella asked, falling asleep in his arms. 

Crowley opened his mouth, but no sound came out, “you can rest in the car dear,” He said, “Our trip is just going to be a little longer.

Stella was asleep by the time they reached the Bentley. Crowley set her down gently as he went around to the drivers’ seat. He nearly went in when he realized Aziraphale was standing stock still, looking over at….Gabriel.

“Angel,” Crowley said, “Get in the car.”

“Just a moment,” Aziraphale said, hesitating. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said more firmly, “Come on, it’s a trap.”

“I know that,” Aziraphale said back, offended Crowley thought he was that stupid, “But...just give me a minute,” And he walked towards the archangel. 

“A--” Crowley called after him, about to chase him down and tackle him if he had to.

“Watch after Stella,” Aziraphale called back, and Crowley stayed put. 

“Hello, Aziraphale,” Gabriel said, “You finally showed up.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath, “It’s a bit hypocritical, don’t you think,” he started, keeping some distance, “Considering I was to be executed for consorting with a demon, and yet you’ve obviously done the same.”

“You were executed for disobeying heaven’s orders,” Gabriel said, “and we haven’t consorted with hell.”

“So, my bookshop,” Aziraphale said, “The M25, that was all coincidence?”

Gabriel clucked his tongue, “We had a shared concern,” he said, “Namely the army you’ve started collecting.” 

“Army?!” Aziraphale shot at him, “What army?” 

Gabriel’s eyes slid to the Bentley, where Crowley was watching them….and Stella was sleeping. “She’s just a child,” Aziraphale said.

“For now,” Gabriel said, “But the fact you created her got us wondering why. And we didn’t like our conclusions.”

“We wanted a child,” Aziraphale said, “Nothing more. We had an agreement you’d stay away from us-”

“Yeah, we’ve been thinking about that for a while,” He said, “See, we’re not sure how, but Hell agrees with us it was some sort of bluff. Besides, did you really think we’d stop watching you?”

Aziraphale swallowed. “We don’t mean anyone any harm,” He said, “Just leave our daughter alone.”

Gabriel smirked, “I wouldn’t count on it.” With that, he backed up and disappeared. 

Crowley drove up and Aziraphale all but collapsed into the passenger seat. “Once we get out of here, I hope you realize you’re in the yelling of your whole life,” Crowley said, bristling with anger, “Of all the stupid--”

“Yes, I know,” Aziraphale said, “But Stella’s sleeping now.” Crowley grumped and kept his yelling internal for now. He started the car and took off down the streets. “Where will we go?” He asked Crowley, “France? Tanzania? Alpha Centauri?”

“Not enough,” Crowley said, “Nowhere we can go they won’t find us. Best to hide in plain sight.”

“Where?” 

Mr. Young stepped outside, and looked across the countryside. Except, the countryside wasn’t as open as he was used to. “Damn construction,” He muttered to his wife and teenage son who were having breakfast, “These new developments are popping up practically overnight.”

Adam, 16 years old now and dreading thinking about his future as an adult, perked his head up. He walked over to the window and saw the new house dotting the landscape. “I’m going to go out today, mum,” He said, shoveling the rest of his breakfast and going to get ready.

“Be sure to come home early,” his mother said, “We still have Uni applications to go over!”

“Alright!” He called back, Dog on his heels. It had been 5 years, but Dog hadn’t seemed to age a bit. 

He made it to the brand new house just as a Bentley pulled up. In the back seat, the little child squealed at the sight of him, “Adam, Adam!” Stella squealed. Crowley got out, opened the door and she rushed over and jumped into his arms. He swung her around, making her giggle. 

“Hey Smella,” He said, using the teasing nickname, “What are you doing here?”

“Had a bit of a run-in,” Crowley said.

Adam nodded slowly, still holding the girl in his arms. “Above, or below?”

“Both, as it happens,” Aziraphale said, coming around with his bags. “Wondering if Tadfield might like a bookshop.”

Adam smirked. “Out here? No one buys books.”

“Perfect,” Aziraphale said, with a sigh. “Come on, Stella dear,” Aziraphale said, taking her from Adam’s grasp, “Let’s go see your new room!” 

Stella, completely confused, rushed alongside her father into the house. Adam could see it was already fully furnished. “So,” Adam asked Crowley, “Are they going to come back?”

Crowley sighed, “I don’t know,” He said, “But I’d rather be in the shadow of the Anti-Christ if they do.” Dog barked. “Yeah, you can’t hurt either. Up for some babysitting kid?”

Adam smiled, “Anything for my something-sister.”


	4. When?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale hold the fort steady, waiting for an attack to come. Stella begins to notice.

“When are you coming back?” Stella asked, trying hard not to pout. Pouting was for babies, Brenda Michaelson said at school. She was NOT a baby anymore, despite her middle name She was nine whole years old and then some.

It had taken hard work and dedication for her parents to allow her to go to school at all. They had fought to homeschool her, especially now that Adam was off at Uni. Adam had shown her all the cool things around town, and for a while, her parents only let her out of the house if either he or her fathers were by her side. She was beginning to feel cooped up, and besides, while she loved them, they were all OLDER than her and BORING. 

Adam was like her, in that he could make some things happen, but he’d taught her how cool things were when they didn’t change anything. When she made miracles all the time, she could never be surprised by anything. Her fathers used them all the time, because they didn’t know how to live without them, but she learned from Adam to use them sparingly. 

Overall, she was grateful for the bit of leeway her parents had given her, letting her be with kids her own age. But now her Papa was LEAVING her. 

“I promise, I’ll be back soon, pumpkin,” Crowley said, kissing her on the head. “You be good for your Dad while I’m gone. And Newt and Anthema will be here! You’ll get to play with their baby, like Adam looked after you.”

Stella scrunched her nose up, looking at Mr. Newt who was bottle feeding his newborn baby, Bertram. “Bertram is a dumb name,” She said. 

“That it is, sweetie.” He said, ruffling her hair that Aziraphale had so carefully combed this morning. 

Aziraphale sighed, but did not chastise him as he got up. “Be safe,” He said, his voice full of worry.

Crowley smirked, “I’ll be fine, Angel.” And he got in the Bentley and left. 

No one had told Stella where he was going, just being vague as he got out. Stella watched the Bentley drive down the road out of Tadfield. When she turned back to the house, she saw Anathema pacing around the house, muttering. Ms. Anathema was always muttering. “What are you doing?” Stella asked.

Anathema jumped, pulled out of her trance. “Oh, hi dear,” She said, “Just reinforcing some protections around the house for while your Dad’s away.”

“Crowley’s my Papa,” Stella corrected, “Aziraphale’s my Dad.”

Anathema smiled, “Of course, dear. My mistake.” And started pacing around the house again. 

Aziraphale stepped out, joining them, “Stella dear, come on in. Why don’t we have some lunch?”

“Can we go out to eat?” she asked, “I want to go to the shop. I was in the middle of a book yesterday and I left it there.”

Aziraphale patted her back. “Let’s tell Mr. Newt what book it was, and then he can go and fetch it for us.” 

“That’ll take forever,” She said. Newt always took forever, doing anything. “Why can’t we just go?”

“We’ll go when your Papa comes back,” He said, “Until then, I think it’s better if we stay in the house.”

“Why?” She asked, holding her ground. 

Aziraphale floundered for a moment. “It’s very complicated, dear,” He said, “We’ll tell you when you’re older.”

“When is that going to be?!” She said, face contorted into the deepest frown she could muster. Her parents were always saying things like that. 

“When you’re ready,” Aziraphale said, stubbornly kind, “Now come on inside. I’ll make you some fresh lemonade.”

She and her dad stared each other down for another few moments. She knew she was going to lose, but it was worth it just for the fight of it. 

With a groan and an eyeroll, she came inside and let her dad prepare her some lunch. “When’s Papa coming home?” She asked him, hoping for more answers than Papa had given her. 

Her Dad smiled, in the way that meant he knew more than he was going to tell her. “A few days at most,” he said, “And Newt and Anathema will be here to keep us company.”

“Why?” Stella asked.

Her Dad sighed, “It’s just good to have more people around right now.” He slid her a sandwich and her fresh lemonade, “I promise, we’ll explain everything--”

“When I’m older,” She said, “Right.”

They spent the next few days in mind-numbing domesticity. Stella wanted to go out and play. She had a couple of friends at school, though she was always at the edge of her friend group. Her parents never let her stay at other kids’ houses for sleepovers, or head into the one mall in town to go around the shops. When Adam was here, she could go through the forests and everything to explore, but she wasn’t allowed now that Adam was at Uni, despite the fact he knew the area just as well as him by now.

With Baby Bertram around they couldn’t do anything fun. Newt screamed every time she made a little miracle happen. And Anathema and Aziraphale were always squirrelled away, talking about things she wasn’t allowed to hear. She had tried spying on them, but Aziraphale caught her. 

Stella was left to play with Twigger, the doll Adam had given her all the way back when she was born. At around 4 years old, Twigger more or less came to life. He couldn’t speak or anything, but he could move around on his little twig limbs. He went with her everywhere, but had to play ‘freeze’ when they went to school. 

School wouldn’t start for weeks, and this was already the lamest holiday ever. In protest she and Twigger didn’t go to bed, reading under her covers for hours after Aziraphale had tucked her in. When she nearly got caught, she snapped the light out of existence, and went to the window instead. 

She sighed, and a little cloud formed out of her mouth. This was the one thing she could do that neither of her fathers could, nor Adam. She breathed a steady stream of condensated water, blowing a larger cloud out into the sky the way she used to blow bubbles. 

She smiled, watching it dissipate into the sky, a soft grey against the dark speckled navy. Her Papa took her stargazing sometimes, and said he’d take her to visit them one day. She didn’t know when, of course. Never knew When. 

Amused at her newfound distraction, she started making different shaped clouds, bunnies and butterflies, monsters and houses. A lot of them ended up looking like the cartoons she watched.

Her fathers told her to never make clouds like that in the house. It was dangerous, for some reason. But if she leaned out her window and blew the clouds up into the night sky, that was fine. Or so she interpreted. Best to ask forgiveness rather than permission, her Papa had said. 

She was so delighted by the art she made across the night sky, she might have missed the thudding that happened downstairs. Twigger pulled on her sleeve and she closed the window. 

She padded over to her front door, looking out the sliver of light to the downstairs area, “Shh, Stella’s still sleeping.” 

Stella smiled at Twigger. No she wasn’t. With a quick miracle on the floorboards she tiptoed out of her room and down the stairs, Twigger riding along her shoulder. 

Her dad was in the living room, huddled over someone on the couch. Stella moved in closer for a better look. It was her Papa!

“Get it out now, Angel,” Crowley said, wincing. Stella leaned in just a little. Aziraphale was doing something to his face and---Aziraphale leaned away. She could see now, the horrible scarring along what seemed to be his entire left half. 

“Fine,” Aziraphale said, patting his face with water, “I told you so,” Then he stood, turning to get more medicine.

Stella turned around, pressing her back to the wall so they wouldn’t see her. Her Papa had gone somewhere dangerous….and been hurt….She exchanged horrified looks with Twigger. 

“Did you at least find anything?” Aziraphale asked, and she heard Crowley hiss at a sting of pain. 

“Ah,” Crowley groaned, “They definitely have been watching her.” 

Her? Stella thought, who was watching her?

“Why haven’t they done anything?” Aziraphale said, “Adam’s been out of the area off and on for what, 3, 4 years now? If they were going to make their move, why haven’t they?” 

“Not 100% sure,” Crowley said “That’s around the time they suddenly realized the plant I was in hadn’t been there before.”

Aziraphale sighed, a thousand chastisements said without a word. “There’s a part of me that wished they’d just come at us.” he said, “At least then we’d know what the threat was. Now we’re just left wondering ‘when.’”

“I know, Angel,” Crowley sighed. “You don’t...you don’t regret making her, do you?”

“No!” Aziraphale said, “No, of course not. You know I love her. I just. I wish I could have brought her into a world where she’d be safe.”

There was some sound of muffled movement, and Stella didn’t know what they were doing. They kept speaking, but their voices were too soft and muttered now, Stella couldn’t hear anymore.

Then they were moving, and she ran back to her room before they could catch her. 

In the morning, the proper morning, Stella hadn’t gotten much sleep. She was woken up by Crowley gently shaking her shoulder, “Morning pumpkin,” He said, “Guess who’s back?”

Right, Stella wasn’t supposed to have known her father had arrived late last night. Blinking her eyes open, she saw he didn’t have the scars along the side of his face anymore. She wondered if they were healed, or if this was some sort of illusion. 

Either way, she split her mouth into the best smile she could manage. “Papa!” she said, happy, holding up her arms. “When’d you come home?”

“Just this morning,” He lied. She did her best to not show that she knew the truth. Having a demon father helped in these cases, “Did you have fun?”

“No,” Stella said, sticking up her nose, “It was boring.”

“Well I can fix that,” He said, scooping her out of bed, tossing her into the air for a moment.

“Papa!” She squealed, “I’m too old for that now!”

“Oh, are you sure?” he said, swinging her around until she couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, dad’s making crepes.” 

Stella was delighted at the crepes, having her Papa there getting her to smile, and most of all, that the Device family had finally gone home. But what she’d seen the night still scratched at the back of her mind. 

“Whatcha thinking so hard about?” Crowley asked, poking the crease between her eyebrows.

She sighed, trying to think of what to say, “How did you guys make me?” She asked. 

Both Aziraphale and Crowley choked a bit on their crepes. “Um, well,” Aziraphale said, “We...had a bit of a ceremony. Remember when we told you the story of Eden? It was kind of like that.” 

Stella chewed on her lip, “Are all babies made like that?” She asked. 

Her fathers were exchanging panicked looks, “Uh, why do you ask?” Crowley said, deflecting. 

“I’m not like the other kids, am I?” She said. 

There was another long pause, “Well, of course not, sweetie,” Aziraphale said, “You’re special!”

“That’s not what I meant,” She said, “People are after me.”

That wiped any sense of lingering humor right off her parents face. “Stella have you seen anything?” Crowley asked, “You saw people watching you?”

Stella shook her head, and they both breathed relief, “Wait, then what do you mean?”

Stella swallowed, kicking her feet, “I heard you,” She said, “Last night. You were hurt.”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged looks again. “Sweetheart,” Aziraphale, “We’ve talked about going to bed--”

“When are they coming?” Stella said, “Who are they? What do they want with me?” She swallowed, “What am I..?”

Crowley pulled her into his lap as tears she hadn’t noticed started welling up in her eyes. “You’re our daughter,” He said, kissing the top of her head, “That’s all you need to be for now.” 

Stella turned in his arms, touching his face. She could feel the illusion now. It dissipated, and she saw the stinging burns on his face. They would fade, but still looked like they hurt based on how much he was flinching. “I’m 9 years old,” She said, “When will I be old enough?”

She felt a hand on her back. Aziraphale was covering the both of them, protective. “We don’t want to scare you,” he said. 

“I’m already scared,” She said, clutching her Papa’s shirt.

Both her father’s arms tightened around her. Aziraphale sat down beside them, not removing his hand from her back. 

And they told her. They told her everything. The war that wasn’t, and their part in it. The results of that. Making her. Moving away. Waiting for either Angels or Demons or both to make their move against them. Against her. 

“And that’s where you went?” Stella asked, “To see what was happening?”

Crowley nodded, “I went down to hell again. To try and get a sense.” He touched his own face, “I wasn’t as subtle as I was hoping.”

Stella hung onto them, “I don’t want them to find me.”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Aziraphale said, “You’re a child, that’s all you need to be. All you need to worry is school and friends and all of that. We’re the grown-ups. This is a grown-up problem.”

“Well, I wouldn’t hate if you were a little more careful,” Crowley said, booping her nose, “I’ll never forgive Adam for showing you all those little hidey holes in the forest. And I certainly don’t want you going there alone.”

“I’m not alone,” She said, “I have Twigger” She pulled him from her pocket. He stood proudly on her palm ready to fight off any threats. 

Aziraphale chuckled lightly, but Crowley put himself on eye level with Twigger. “If anything happens to her, anything at all, I will pull every leaf from your head until you’re nothing but a pile of splinters!” 

Twigger shook where he stood, no longer confident. “Papa,” Stella chastised, giving Twigger a comforting hug and put him back in her pocket. “I am scared,” She said, “But...I’m not a baby anymore.”

Aziraphale stroked her head. “We can’t promise not to keep secrets anymore,” He said, “We’re your parents, and it’s our job to protect you. But…” he sighed, “We will try to remember that you are older now, and don’t need to be coddled.” 

Stella shifted, “Well….maybe coddled a little bit?”

Both Aziraphale and Crowley laughed at that, pulling her in tighter for a hug. “As much coddling as you want.” Crowley said.

Stella waited.

For years she waited, an invisible shadow over her shoulder. 

Anathema taught her how to see peoples auras and she looked constantly, searching for any around her that weren’t quite human. 

Soon Adam came back and got an easy job at Aziraphale’s bookshop where he barely did anything, but was particularly good at annoying patrons until they left. Stella could feel it now, the way Adam was looking over her shoulder like her fathers were. She was a sitting target. 

“I don’t want to be,” Stella told him, when she turned 11, the same age he had been when everything happened, “I don’t want to be anything.” Her emotions were all swirled around and she cried in the forest.

Adam took her hand and guided her through the woods to a swing. “Do you want to go witch hunting with me?” He asked. 

She played the role of the witch instead, and Adam, the hunter, swung her from the tree until she screamed. Whether it was with terror or joy was no real matter. 

While they were so careful, watching the humans and their auras, Stella forgot to check the animals. Most especially, she did not check the very ugly toad that hopped along side her in the forest grounds. 

When Adam fire-man carried her home (or to the Witch-Burner general, as he claimed) the toad hopped over to an old rotted bridge, sitting on one side. 

A Golden eagle dived down on the other side. While a normal toad might have run away, this one stayed put, staring the eagle down as it perched on the railing, soon turning into the figure of Michael. 

The Toad then turned into Hastur, snarling at the angel. “I could have had her. Today. She ran off and was all alone, they might never notice.”

“Yes they would have,” Michael said, “And soon. She’s not ready yet.”

Hastur grumped more. “She’s the age the antichrist is supposed to be. Eleven years.”

“She’s not the antichrist,” Michael explained, like a teacher to a small child, “And we made that mistake once, you want to do it again?” Hastur grumbled. “There were several mistakes last time. But we have a second chance now. She must be old enough to have experienced some cruelty of the Earth. The first boy was too young, and believed in the good.”

“I’m sick of waiting,” Hastur said. “When’s old enough?”

“Just a bit longer,” Michael said, still annoyingly patient, “The important thing is that we start the war.” 

Hastur smirked at the thought. “When the day comes,” He said, “I’m going to rip your head off your shoulders and drain all your blood.”

Michael smiled back, “Not if I smite you first.” She sighed, “If you’re bored, feel free to cause some mischief around the town. But none too obvious. We don’t want the traitors scurrying away with her again.” 

Hastur cracked his neck, “Now mischief I can do.”

“Light mischief,” she added. 

He rolled his eyes, “Light mischief.”

She nodded, and in a flash of feathers, she flew up to the sky. 

Hastur snarled up at her, squinting in the sun. He started by breaking the bridge. “Light mischief,” he mocked. Still, any mischief was better than none at all. This was going to be fun.


	5. Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now a tempermental teen, Stella has a spat with her fathers....and then with someone else.

“FASTER!!”

“I CANT GO ANY FASTER!!”

“YES YOU CAN! PUNCH IT!!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

Stella couldn’t be sure, but she had a feeling most teenagers’ driving lessons weren’t quite like hers. 

Stella was the first and only person Crowley had allowed to drive his Bentley in over 50 years, but she wasn’t particularly thrilled about the honor. Tadfield was small, she had been perfectly happy just biking everywhere. But she was apparently old enough to start learning how to drive. She had only just turned 15, so she wasn’t old enough according to the law, but according to Crowley. Crowley determined this because she was tall enough to easily reach the pedals now. 

Stella screamed as a fence was coming straight at her. She didn’t know whether to swerve left or right, so she stayed frozen, just screaming as the fence came at her. 

Crowley snapped and the fence was moved aside. The long grass of the field guided them to a halt.

Stella shook, holding the steering wheel like her life depended on it as the world went still again. She was pretty sure she had left some part of her stomach back behind her. 

Crowley clucked his tongue. “Alright,” he said, “Could use a little work.”

She stared at him in horror as the stereo clicked on, playing ‘Killer Queen.’ 

Aziraphale was calmly sipping tea as he heard the Bentley pull up to their little cottage. Stella slammed open the doors. “How’d it go?” He asked calmly.

“NEVER AGAIN!” She screamed, storming past into the kitchen. 

“Oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad!” Crowley said, sauntering in after her. He shook his head, hearing the fridge door slam shut. “Don’t drink straight from the milk carton,” he instructed. 

Stella came back into the living room, milk carton in hand brought to her lips, and raising a pair of fingers at him. “EXCUSE ME YOUNG LADY!” He shouted as she went upstairs, completely ignoring her, “I will not be treated this way in my own house!” 

Her room door slammed shut, leaving him in silence. “Can you believe this?” Crowley said, turning on Aziraphale, who remained, nonplussed. 

Aziraphale shrugged. “She is your daughter.”

“No, no, no,” Crowley said, coming over to sit beside him, “Hogging food, disrespect for authority, that’s all you Angel.”

Aziraphale smirked, “I’d say both of us on that latter point.”

Crowley grumbled. “How exactly are we meant to punish her?” He said, “This was so much easier in Hell. I could hang her by her toes, maybe. Or Chinese Water torture! That’ll do it.”

“You know perfectly well it won’t,” Aziraphale said, “For one, even if you did, she’d miracle out of it. For two, you have spent 15 years spoiling that girl rotten, and that’s not about to stop now.”

Crowley groaned, knowing his husband was right as he turned to the stairwell. He narrowed his eyes at the tiny figure he saw creeping down the staircase. “Hey!” He shouted, and the doll Twigger froze going down a step, “Yeah, I can see you. Scram!” He stood, ready to get rid of the doll himself, but he didn’t need to as it properly scurried back up the stairway. 

Crowley made it to the base of the stairs. “Getting a little old for spying don’t you think?!” He shouted upstairs. If Stella heard, and he was sure she did, she didn’t respond. “What has gotten into her?”

“Teenagedom, I’m afraid,” He said, “I’ve read several books on the subject.”

“Well I don’t like it,” Crowley said, snarling as he returned to his seat. “Can’t we just fast forward through this part?”

“What, you’re going to sleep through it?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, and Crowley looked appropriately sheepish. Aziraphale had yet to let go of that whole 19th century nonsense. “She’s just starting to grow into adulthood and figuring out who she is as a person. Which is quite a difficult challenge within itself, let alone for….well for her.” He took another sip of his tea. “We have to be understanding and help guide her through all this.”

Crowley banged his head on the table. “So what, we’re supposed to just let her use us as punching bags?”

“No,” Aziraphale said, “We just need punishments that are proportional to the crime.”

“Like what?”

There was a scream upstairs and thundering as Stella stormed halfway down the stairs, “What happened to the internet?” 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, the lightest smile on his face, “It’s been temporarily disconnected, I’m afraid.”

Stella narrowed her eyes at him, “I’ll just miracle the neighbor’s wifi unlocked.”

“The whole area’s been disconnected, I’m afraid,” He said sipping on his tea without looking up. “Terrible inconvenience. Probably a problem with the carrier.”

Stella stamped her foot impatiently. “What do you want?” She demanded. 

Aziraphale finally looked up at her, “You can start by undrinking that milk. It's not sanitary.”

Stella flared her nostrils, red hair flared all around her. She snapped her fingers, and they knew the milk was back in the fridge, untouched. “There now,” Aziraphale said, “Please apologize to your Papa. He was trying to teach you today, and you were quite rude.”

“He nearly got me killed!” Stella yelled.

“Stella,” Aziraphale stared her down, eyebrow raised. 

“I’m never touching that car again.” She said, holding her ground, “It’s old and ugly!” 

“You take that back, missy!” Crowley said, temper rising with hers. 

“I won’t!” She said, “You’re crazy and old and you shouldn’t even be driving, let alone trying to teach me! It’s dangerous like you!” 

With that, she turned on her heel and stormed out the backdoor and out of the house. Aziraphale sighed, disappointed. “I’m going after her,” Crowley started.

“No, no,” Aziraphale said, holding up his hand, “She just needs to go blow off some steam. She knows to be safe.”

Crowley wasn’t entirely sure he trusted that, but he crossed his arms tight and slumped, wondering what had happened to his precious, sweet little girl.

It turned out, Stella was quite literal with the blowing off of steam, stomping off into the woods and breathing out a cloud of hot water.

The clouds joined a storm, a gathering thunderhead above her. It moved in fast, a sheet of rain quickly encompassing her, dampened only by the leaves of the trees. She felt it run down her curly hair she had tied back into a plait. The wet awkward feeling left her just as miserable on the outside as she was within. She screamed out into the night, the sound covered by thunder and a cloud forming just for her. 

“Whoa there,” A voice said behind her, “Impressive.” 

Stella looked up. A man in a grey suit was walking towards her, looking very out of place in the wild woods. “Who are you?”

“Your parents haven’t told you about me?” He said, coming over by her. He waved a hand over a small boulder, and it magically became clean and dry as he sat on it. 

She blinked at him, and then looked up into his purple eyes. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel smiled at her. “Stella,” he said, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Stella took a half step back. She should run, make her way back to the cottage. Her fathers were there, they would protect her. But he didn’t seem intent on harming her. “What do you want?”

“Think of it like a job offer,” He said, “Intern for Heaven. Learn about all the things it takes to be an angel.”

“I’m not an angel,” She snapped back at him, eyes narrowed. 

His smile twitched, “You could be.” She took another step back, foot landing in mud. He didn’t chase after her, just stared her down. “Your fathers have done a good job raising you, I won’t deny it. But it’s time for you to grow up and learn who you are.”

“And you know who I am?” her mouth turning to a snarl.

Gabriel took a long breath, “I know who you could be.” 

Stella was several meters away from him now, but still he stared at her. Her feet were encased in thin mud as the rain and thunder raged around her. “What, you want me to be the anti-christ?” She said, “Like you tried to make Adam?”

“Adam Young made his choice,” Gabriel said, finally standing up, “And taught us a valuable lesson in the meantime. Choices are what make the humans so dangerous. But, we know you like them, so,” She tried to step away again, but her foot was trapped in the mud. With a few quick steps, Gabriel was suddenly upon her, “Here is your choice. Come with me, and learn to be the savior. You will lead the armies of heaven, and smite the demons of hell. The humans your fathers are so fond of will be saved. They will live forever in the kingdom of heaven, in peace. We will train you, teach you, you’ll want for nothing ever again.” 

Subtly as she could, she dropped Twigger onto the ground, and he went running back to the cottage, hidden by the brush. “And,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “What’s my other choice?”

A hand shot up out of the mud, grabbing her ankle, and she screamed. 

She tripped and fell back, kicking as the mud splashed around her. More and more hands crawled out of the mud, attached to arms and figures that were surely demons. They tried to drag her down, or maybe tear her apart.

Stella felt herself sinking into the dirt, only able to look up at Gabriel, standing in the rain, looking calmly down at her as he awaited her answer.

Inside their cottage, Crowley was still fuming, though Aziraphale thought the more adept word was ‘pouting.’ “You didn’t think parenting was going to be all sunshine and birthday parties, did you?” 

Crowley groaned, somehow pulling his arms in tighter around himself. “No,” he spat, “But I thought maybe she’d actually enjoy things I shared with her. She likes your books, and your food...”

“And your music,” Aziraphale said, having finished his tea, and debating if he wanted to refill his mug, “She loves you very dearly, and maybe at some point she’ll enjoy driving too.” Aziraphale smiled at him, “You need to learn to match her speed.”

Crowley groaned again, knowing Aziraphale was right. Before he could come up with a point to fight against it (not to win, but to keep it going because he didn’t want to give up yet) he heard a thumping at the back door. 

It was too light to be a knock, but too steady to be an accidental tree branch or something. Hesitant, Crowley slinked towards the door and opened it.

Twigger was on the other said, rearing up to slam himself at the door once again in his best effort to knock. “Twigger?” Crowley asked, confused for a solid second before his mind started processing, “Where’s Stella?!” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, soft and panicked at the same time, “Look.”

Crowley looked out the back over the forest. Storm clouds had collected over it, raining just to the tree line. It was certainly not natural, which could only mean…..

They took off in a run at the same time, Twigger trying his best to keep up on his tiny legs. 

Stella had managed to grab hold of a fallen tree branch hitting the demons away. The branch shattered quickly, but it gave her the chance to get up, climbing up to the top of the boulder. “Stay away!” She yelled down at them, but they started clawing their way up the side of the rock, long claws digging into the stone face. 

There were at least 5, dirty and rotting. She raised her hands, and a tree fell beside her, knocking a few of them away, but the rest kept coming. “You can smite them,” Gabriel reminded her, standing off to the side. “You know how.”

One of the demons made it up to her, grabbing at her pants. She kicked at him, but he held on.

“GET OFF!” She yelled at him, but that wasn’t all. A puff of heated water came tumbling out of her lips, hitting the demon in the face. He reeled back, clutching his face in pain as he fell in a heap on the ground, shaking violently. 

He pulled his hands away, and she saw his face MELTING off him, in a horrifying elixir of red and black liquid. His hands had started melting off as well. 

Stella screamed, ready to cry at the damage she had caused. The demons looked uneasy as well, hesitating in their pursuit. “You lot want me to tell your boss you didn’t follow orders?” Gabriel said to the demons, and urged them on. 

Stella kept her mouth clammed shut this time, kicking and scratching at the demons. “You know that won’t work,” Gabriel yelled at her, “You have to smite them.”

She felt the steam building up in her lungs again, ready to strike. She clapped a hand over her own mouth. She needed to get out. Just...just to get away….

“You can’t run,” Gabriel said, “Smite them, and seal your fate as the savior of heaven.

She couldn’t run. The demons had her surrounded, their hands grabbing at her, pulling her down. 

She had to get away. She couldn’t run. She had to get away, just had to get away, and--

She felt her back twitch, something pulling at her, like a vine shooting out of her very bones. The demons stopped pulling and even Gabriel gaped at her, his self-satisfied smile vanished.

She looked, and two large wings had sprouted from her form. She had seen her fathers’ wings only once, because she’d asked them to show her, Crowley’s black as night, Aziraphale’s white as a cloud. 

Hers were neither. Instead, her wings were a bright crimson red. The color of her hair. The color of blood and fire, of life and passion. They stretched out wide from her, a straight line of feathers creating shadows over the demons and angel below. 

She felt herself get control over them, like a second pair of limbs. She raised them in sync...and with one beat propelled herself into the air, pulling loose from the demons. 

She was a little shaky, trying to get the handle of them, but she stayed out of reach of the ones below. “You can’t run forever!” Gabriel said, scowling at her, “You have to make your choice!”

Stella saw movement out the corner of her eye, movement that those below missed. She kept her mouth shut, and slowly shook her head at Gabriel. 

With no more warning, a giant snake burst through the trees, sinking it’s huge fangs into one of the demons who screamed. The demons hurriedly changed targets, but they were no match as Crowley whipped around, knocking them over or squeezing the life out of him. 

Gabriel watched in shock, to the point he nearly didn’t notice the sword pointed at his neck. “I told you,” Aziraphale said cooly, “To leave our daughter alone.” 

Gabriel swallowed, looking down at the steel. “I thought you gave that back.”

“There are a lot of swords on Earth these days,” He said, “Not my fault the mailman didn’t check it was the right one.”

The demons who got away burrowed themselves underground, scurrying away from Crowley’s wrath. 

Gabriel backed up a step, and then another. Aziraphale kept his eyes fixed on him. “You’ll still have to make your choice,” Gabriel called up to Stella, “You all will.” With that, he snapped and disappeared in a burst of lightning. 

Aziraphale finally lowered his sword, the fight draining out of him. Behind him, he heard Crowley transforming back into his human shape, but his focus was fixed on his daughter. “Come down, Stella,” he said, softly, “It’s alright, they’re gone. You’re safe.” Stella looked down at him, and he could see tears streaking down her face. “It’s going to be alright. Come down.” He reached up his hand to her, and slowly, she floated towards them. 

She fell hard, legs giving out below her, but Crowley and Aziraphale were there to help her back up, neither of them willing to let go. She still had her hands clasped over her mouth. “What’s wrong with her?” Crowley asked Aziraphale, distressed.

Aziraphale was equally upset, as he noticed water falling down her face, but not tears...it was coming from her mouth. He touched it, flinching back in pain from the heat, “The steam,” He said, “She’s holding it in...Stella, you’re going to drown yourself, you have to let it go.”

Stella shook her head rapidly, her eyes drifting to the melted remains of the demon on the ground. “It’s alright,” Crowley said, holding her shoulders. “You won’t hurt us. It’s going to be fine.” He held her arm. Aziraphale held her other, lightly tugging to get her to remove her hands, but not so hard she couldn’t resist. “You don’t have to be afraid,” Crowley said, “Not of yourself or anyone. Just let go.”

Shaking, Stella allowed them to pull her hands away, and then tilted her head up as a billowing column of steam errupted from her. It pushed the Thunderclouds away, creating a new storm in it’s place crackling with power and energy. 

As the last whisps left her, she started to fall back, but her parents held her steady. Her lip was trembling as she watched the giant nimbus clouds grow dark above her. “Who…” she muttered quietly, her voice broken, “Who am I?”

Crowley held her tightly, “You’re Stella Baby Crowley-Fell. Our daughter,” He said, “That’s all you need to be.”

The cloud she’d formed cracked again, and they saw in slow motion a drop of rain fall from the sky, about to hit their heads. 

Stella’s wings spread out, covering both her Fathers from the storm, protecting them as they had so long protected her. Aziraphale squeezed her hand. “Let’s go home, dear.” 

As a family, they walked out of the woods and back to the cottage, not saying another word, but tied together as tightly as they could be.


	6. Why?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having turned 18, Stella is ready to go out and face the world, but Crowley isn't.

“But why?” Crowley asked for what was probably the 5th or 6th time. 

Stella sighed, sitting on her suitcase to get it to close properly, “We’ve talked about this.”

“But I still don’t understand!” He said, definitely not pouting, “You can do anything you want, right here. You could get a job in your Dad’s bookshop, or...or anywhere you wanted.” 

“Papa,” she said, a little condescendingly as she closed the case, standing in front of him. She was just as tall as him now, it was weird. “I’ve spent most of my life cooped up in Tadfield. It’s time for me to get out there. See the world you saved. Understand it and…” she took a breath, “Understand my place in it.”

Crowley’s scowl deepened. “But why can’t your place be HERE?”

She chuckled, wrapping her arms around him. “I’ll miss you too, Papa.”

Aziraphale waddled in, balancing a giant, heavy-looking bag up to the door. “I’ve got all the books you’ll need,” he said, “All your favorites, some recipe books, and some of my prized prophecies. Not all of them accurate, but you never know when it could be useful.”

“Thanks, Dad,” She said, taking the bag, which immediately dropped to the floor, “Oof, how many did you fit IN here?!” she asked, “I’m not sure the plane will even take off!” 

“You can always just fly on your own,” Aziraphale said, helping her load it up into the car. “You sure you won’t take the Bentley?”

“I can’t take it over water, Dad.” She said, “Besides, I think it still doesn’t like me.”

The car’s radio came on, starting the opening notes to ‘Another one bites the dust.’ She gave the back wheel a kick, “Yeah, yeah, love you too.”

Crowley had followed them out as they packed her luggage in the trunk and backseat. “But why can’t you just go to a university here?” He asked, “There’s one close by, it’ll be fine. You like learning things.”

Stella sighed, turning to Aziraphale. “He’s still in denial.”

“So I see,” Aziraphale said, “Don’t worry, he’ll come to terms with it in a decade or two.”

Stella chuckled, closing the car up tight. “Come on, Papa. Time to go to the airport.” Crowley stayed stubborn in the driveway, arms crossed tight.

Aziraphale, “If you don’t want to take her, I suppose I could drive the Bentley.”

Crowley stepped between him and the driver’s door before he could so much as approach. He sighed reluctant and climbed inside. Aziraphale took the backseat while Stella sat in the front with him. 

Even as he started the car, Crowley looked reluctant. “It’s just...it’s dangerous out there,” He said, “What if something….something happens and we’re not there.”

“I’m eighteen, Papa,” She said, “I can handle myself.” 

Eighteen, Crowley thought, at eighteen, humanity was just learning about murder and farming and things. And even then, just barely. At 18 there were about 4 people in the world. Now there were billions. How was she supposed to manage out there among billions? 

Still, he drove out. Tadfield didn’t have an airport (anymore) so it was quite a drive to get to the nearest one. They made it to the airport and hit a line of traffic driving into the Departing terminal. “Bloody airport traffic,” Crowley muttered.

“Didn’t you design airports dear?” Aziraphale asked.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, inching forward. 

Aziraphale and Stella exchanged amused looks. “What are you going to do in America?” He asked.

Stella sighed, “I’m not sure yet. Get a car and drive from coast to coast. Head down through Mexico and Latin America before jumping over to Australia and up through Asia. But I don’t have it strictly planned out, really,” She shrugged, “I figure better to go where fate takes me.” 

Aziraphale smirked at that. “Well, keep us updated,” he said, “Call whenever you need. Every day, if you want, we won’t mind.”

“You’ll have to fill a wall with all the postcards I send you,” She said, “and I’ll be sure to send you recipes for anything particularly good I come across.” 

Too quickly, they reached Stella’s terminal. She got out, Aziraphale helping her get her bags to be checked, while Crowley sulked, leaning against the car. The radio was on, playing “Keep Yourself Alive.”

Once her bags were checked, Aziraphale pulled her into the tightest hug he could manage, and kissed her on the head until she pulled away, embarrassed. “Dad!” 

“Last time I’ll get the chance for a while,” He said jovially, “Have to save it up.”

She smiled fondly, before turning to Crowley. She smiled as she walked up to him. “I promise I’ll be safe,” she said, “And I’ll come back. This isn’t forever. We’ve got the rest of eternity, you know.”

He took a sharp breath through his nose, and then wrapped Stella up so tight even he was unsure if he’d let her go. He only allowed himself to tear up through his glasses so she didn’t see.

In her handbag, Twigger stuck his little head out to look up at the scene. Crowley met...well the thing didn’t have eyes, but where eyes would be if he had them. “Splinters,” he mouthed at him, and he shuffled back inside. 

He did, eventually, let her go. Holding her shoulders to look in her eyes. “A wall full of post cards, huh?” he said, “You know I invented those.”

“I know, Papa,” She said, rolling her eyes. She stepped away, taking her carry-on luggage, and went inside. 

Aziraphale put a hand on his shoulder. “You alright to take us back home?”

Crowley swallowed, “maybe we should wait a bit,” He said, “She could still change her mind.”

Aziraphale squeezed his shoulder, “Come on, the agent is giving us dirty looks.”

Crowley gave the man in the bright yellow vest an equally dirty look back, but reluctantly sat back in the drivers seat. “Why do kids have to grow up?” he asked. 

“I mean,” Aziraphale, started as he got in the passenger side again, “It’s sort of your fault, isn’t it?” Crowley glared at him. “I’m just saying.”

Crowley huffed. “I don’t mean LOGISTICALLY,” he said, “Just...we were happy. This was all….good, why’s it all have to go away?”

“It’s not going away,” Aziraphale said, “She’ll be back. And before she does, she’ll...create new things, affect new people, take what we’ve taught her and show it to the world. Isn’t that what you wanted in making a new life?”

Crowley shrugged, “I don’t know what I wanted,” he said, “I just…”

Aziraphale squinted at him, trying to ignore the speeding the car did. “Why did you want to make a child anyway?”

Crowley shrugged awkwardly. “Why does anyone want to have kids.”

“Societal expectations,” Aziraphale said, counting off on his fingers,“Creating a continuation of their line, and species. Having someone to look out for them when they’re old, and remembering them when they die. None of those seem to apply to us, though.” 

Crowley sighed, “I dunno, it kind of does,” he said. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, “I mean, we’re an endagered species now. Supernatural beings looking after humanity. And Heaven and Hell have both proved they want nothing more than to get rid of us. So. I dunno.” He clenched his teeth.

Aziraphale squinted at him, curious, “Crowley, were you lonely?”

Crowley smirked at him, “Never with you, Angel,” he said, trying to throw him off with a joke. 

“It is...hard,” Aziraphale said, “Not having Heaven on my side anymore. I suppose they weren’t really for a while, but…” He sighed, “It’s nice, being a family. A family more than just two people.” 

Crowley nodded, and if Aziraphale saw him covertly wipe a tear away from his eye, he ignored it. “You want to make another one?” He asked.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale chastised.

“What?” He asked, “Lots of kids have siblings ages apart. Eighteen years is hardly a big deal when you think about it.”

Aziraphale chuckled a bit. “We’ll talk about it with Stella next time she visits,” He said, “Seems like a family discussion.” Crowley nodded, knowing he was right. “You know, you could make friends with SOME humans. You don’t need to be the angsty immortal from those novels Stella reads. And I know you do too, by the way.”

Crowley looked guilty, “Hey, you spent centuries just trying to get me to read,” he said, “Be grateful.”

Aziraphale’s chuckle turned to a whole laugh, that made Crowley laugh too. And they laughed all the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and commenting, it's meant a lot to me!

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! My tumblr is dork-empress


End file.
